


Final Hesitation

by WrenAndPoppy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Andraste help me tag this, Angst, Anxiety, Despair, Gen, Spoilers, The Author Had A Lot Of Feelings While Writing This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8913088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrenAndPoppy/pseuds/WrenAndPoppy
Summary: Anders has a lot on his mind as his time in Kirkwall draws to a close.  There are some decisions you can't take back, but that doesn't stop the heart from wishing.Takes place near the very end of DA2 and contains a big spoiler.  You know the one.





	

_Tear it all down._

Kirkwall was sticky in the afternoon heat.  Filth and sin congealed in the crevasses between every stone.  The maze-like streets stifled the wind, so that not even the relief of a soft breeze could touch Anders’ hair, soothe the sweat from his neck.  Kirkwall oppressed the very air.

_Tear down every putrid stone brink and start from scratch._

Anders couldn’t take it.  He couldn’t watch another desperate mage turn to blood magic to survive.  He couldn’t stand another Tranquil’s blank stare in the Gallows.  He couldn’t watch another Circle-fleeing mage numbly following him through the escape tunnels, flinching when he offered a hand.

He just wanted it all to be over.

_Burn it all down._

The Chantry towered before him, a mountain of unfeeling stone and cold glass.  Anders stood in the stagnant air and soaked in the view.  

_How will it look as it shatters?  Do I want to know?_

He ached to slink inside, to drop to his knees beneath Andraste’s spread hands and pray for her help.  Maybe the silence and the glow of candles would bring the comfort he needed, the press of stone against his knees, the warm spice of incense.  Maybe this was all a fit of madness that would pass, showing him another way, a cleaner way.

_I don’t want to add to the bloodshed.  I don’t want more violence.  I just want things to be better.  Maker, I beg you, how do I make things better?_

Hope teased him, sweeter and more painful than a lover’s final kiss.   _A peaceful solution._ Even thinking the words made him ache with longing.  Indulgently, selfishly, he imagined Knight Commander Meredith laying down her arms and negotiating with the mages.  He imagined Circles across Thedas slowly emptying as mages returned to see their families, released by the Templars.  He imagined a child born with the gift, sparks flying from tiny palms, with no Templars coming to take them away from their parents.

… It was a sweet dream.

_And it will never happen._

Anders leaned wearily on his staff as he stared up at the towering Chantry.  If a peaceful solution was possible, it would have happened by now.  Mages had “negotiated” with Templars for centuries.  And where had it gotten his people?  Anders closed his eyes, giving himself a moment to grieve for what he was about to do.  

_I never wanted this.  I never wanted any of this.  Andraste forgive me, I’m sorry._

A sob threatened at the back of his throat, and Anders fought it down.  He let faces flash through his mind, every wronged mage he’d ever met.  The girl with the bruises on her arms, not quite hidden by her robes.  The man who had escaped with Anders through the tunnels, dissolving into a shaking wreck when combat had forced him to use magic.  The young Tranquil in the Gallows, barely old enough to know bad words and already stripped of her mind.

Anders knew why the escaping mages flinched when he offered to take their hands.

When he breathed out, long and weary, the tantalizing hope was gone.  Anger had scorched it away.  Anders lifted his hard gaze to the Chantry once more.

_Burn it all down, or no one will ever address the flames._

“ … Anders?”

Anders blinked.  He pulled his gaze away from the Chantry, meeting Hawke’s blue eyes.  Her brow was pursed in confusion.

“ … Are we going to actually go inside,” she asked, “or was this ‘favor’ a simple matter of ‘hey Hawke I need someone to stand next to me while I get into a staring contest with the Chantry?’”

It took Anders a moment to recover.  He gave Hawke his best attempt at a smile.

“Can you blame me?  I stand next to a Hightown resident, and people assume I’m important too.”

Hawke’s snorted laugh told him the distraction was successful.  Anders broke into a crisp stride before she could ask more questions, approaching the towering Chantry.  He cast one more look up at the stonework as he and Hawke mounted the stairs.

Soon, one way or another, it would all be over.  No more losing battle, no more struggling to fix something that was too broken to survive, no more long drag of despair.  Just… over.  

The thought lifted more weight from his shoulders than Anders had imagined possible.  A small smile, real this time, graced his face as he stepped into the Chantry that he was about to destroy.


End file.
